26.2

Just a little more than 7 years ago to the day I ran my first marathon.

Looking at that last sentence, I make it sound like I have run oodles and oodles of marathons – I have only run two.  But that is enough for me.  I guess the jury is still out if I will run any more . . . heck, the jury has yet to conclude on whether or not my knee will even let me.

But today I had two friends running the half marathon and one friend running the full marathon here in Tucson and I decided that was a great reason to go out and cheer the runners as they trudged through the seemingly endless race.  Having been in their shoes, I know how awesome it was to hear friends, family and especially complete strangers cheering me on.

I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of those friends.  Don’t get me wrong, I was not jealous of the grueling and strict training schedule that they had to stick to and I was not jealous of all the times they had to pass on a night out with friends because they had to run 6, or 16 miles the next day.  I most certainly was not jealous of the three to four hours of their Saturdays that had to be devoted to running.  Heck I was not even jealous of the 26 or 13 miles they had run prior.

But I was envious of that culminating moment at the end of the race, after four months of training and close to four hours of straight running; that moment when you cross the finish line and you realize that you did it!

So much determination on that young face.

It was an incredibly emotional, almost spiritual, experience. As you near the end of your first marathon you don’t notice anything except for the finish line.  I know I had friends and family cheering me on and I am sure that there were others cheering as I finished – I didn’t see them.  I could not hear anything. I could not feel anything. The only thing I could focus on was the end of the race.

Then I crossed the line and a sea of sounds and images flooded my senses. My mom had been late to the race and feared that she had missed my finish but happened to get to the finish line just seconds before I did. In a sea of strange faces looking for someone other than me, my mom’s familiar figure seemed to pop out from the crowd and I gravitated toward her and collapsed in her arms.

After miles and miles of forcing myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, I didn’t have to do it any more!  As sounds, sights and smells continued to bombard my senses, the knowledge that I was finished was the best feeling in the world. I found myself overwhelmed and crying in my mom’s embrace.

 That is easily one of my top 5 favorite moments to date.

And I will never get to experience my first marathon again.  Don’t get me wrong, my second marathon was an amazing experience as well . . . but it wasn’t the same.  I knew what to expect and I was more prepared.  It wasn’t new.

Although I definitely enjoyed the actual race a lot more

Despite my melancholy, I was so happy that I got to share this moment with my friends and I hope that their first ½ and full marathons respectively were as great an experience as my first marathon was for me.  You all did outstanding!

Until next we meet.